Trouble
by Mayet
Summary: Just how much trouble could Steve get into during one reserve drill? AU from the end of I Helu Pu.
1. Prologue

**Trouble**

**Summary:** Just how much trouble can Steve get into during one tiny reserve drill? AU from the end of I Helu Pu.

**Pairings:** Steve/Cath, minor Kono/Adam, Chin/Malia

**A/N: **This was inspired by reading _SugarMuffin08's 'Undoubtedly'_; must have read that story a hundred times. I actually had this idea somewhere in my third or fourth read, but I haven't gotten around to follow up on it until now. Enjoy!

_**Prologue**_

The mood in the room was nervous and severe. He could tell his superiors were stubbornly avoiding to look at him, could almost follow the whispers behind his back from those sailors who'd come just to see the show, see him fall. Some wished him well, no doubt, others, eaten up by envy, were just as surely hoping for the worst. The Captain of the U.S.S Enterprise had taken a seat behind him, taking his side from the beginning, and the SEAL was unsure what such actions might cost him. This was not his arena, and he would not get in the middle of it, but Steve was more than a little grateful for the silent support and the clear sign that at least someone believed him, believed _in_ him.

The Captain wasn't the only one; he could feel Catherine's gaze burn into his back and, when he closed his eyes, he could practically see her finger the material of her uniform trousers nervously. She was likely rubbing the flat of her sweaty hands over the fabric trying to calm herself down. If this day yielded the wrong result, it would almost certainly mean a dishonorable discharge for both of them, potentially more severe punishment, and he resisted the urge to turn around and give her promises they both knew he might not be able to keep. He also fought the urge to copy her nervous habit. He could feel his hands get sweaty as he tried to find a place for them; one the desk in front of him, or in his lap, or crossed over his chest perhaps?

Commander Lou cleared her throat in an attempt to get his attention and get him to stop fidgeting because it sure as hell wasn't helping anyone. Steve risked a glance at the second table to the side where Lieutenant Commander Vukovic was sat. The man was looking at him with a slight smirk on his face; he was enjoying to see the SEAL squirm, a fact that had said sailor sit straight and still immediately. He hated Vukovic. Keeping his face as neutral as possible, he tried to imagine what the Lieutenant Commander hoped to achieve that he would risk destroying the careers of two or more good sailors. The way the man had come after him was understandably harsh considering the circumstances, but he'd had no business bullying Catherine and making her out to be some weak, simple-minded puppet in a SEAL's hands.

He fought down the sense of guilt that still threatened to overwhelm him whenever he thought about the circumstances that put them in this situation in the first place, and he had to bite down on his lower lip to stop himself from turning around to apologize to Catherine again – she'd sworn she would punch him if he did so one more time, he wouldn't put it past her, and she didn't need any more trouble coming her way. His hands clenched into fists briefly as he thought about laying a very satisfying punch on Lieutenant Commander Vucovik, but that wouldn't do either. There was no need for him to sink even deeper into this mess either.

He had been so preoccupied with what had been going on inside his head that he hadn't noticed Captain Henry Delario enter the little room. It took an elbow in the sides from Commander Lou to get him back to reality and stand up in a sign of respect with everyone else. He watched Captain Delario sit down and take notice of the seating arrangements of everyone involved. The older man did not raise an inquisitive eyebrow as he had during past sessions, merely sighed as if he were anxious to get this out of the way. With a hand he motioned for everyone to sit back down, then turned to Steve.

"Anything to add before I announce my findings, Lieutenant Commander?"

Steve shook his head. He'd already said everything he could as had a lot of other people on his behalf and on Vucovik's. He couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Very well, then," Captain Delario spoke up again. „Both sides have presented their case in the past sessions. As this is an Article 32 hearing, I'm not here to decide on the guilt or innocence of the accused, merely to decide whether this case should go to court-martial. Lieutenant Commander McGarrett, please rise."

**End of the prologue!**

**A/N:** So, this is my very brief prologue. Chapters will be longer and I'll try to update regularly, but I'm finishing my thesis and semester starts again next week, so I can't make any promises. I'm sorry it took me so long to get even to this point, but I hope you enjoyed it. Please review and stay tuned...

Thanks to Miahbug for beta-ing.


	2. Chapter 1

**Trouble**

**Summary:** Just how much trouble can Steve get into during one tiny reserve drill?

**Pairings:** Steve/Cath, minor Kono/Adam, Chin/Malia

**Warning:** explicit content, also language – you have been warned

**A/N:** Not beta-ed. I couldn't reach Miahbug, and I figured you have waited long enough. I'll update the corrected version when I receive it.

**Chapter 1**

_(End of I Helu Pu, Catherine's house_ [1]_)_

"Hey. Happy Valentine's Day."

To say she was surprised when she opened the door in the middle of packing her bags would have been exaggerated. Catherine wasn't so much surprised at finding Steve on her front lawn – she had known he'd find a moment to say goodbye to her – but at the way he appeared before her. Her brain took stock of the uniform and the bruises, yet before she could comment, he'd handed her a heart-shaped box. She took it a little astounded, and raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him. The self-satisfied little smirk that made all the girls melt did not get by her. God, she loved that smile herself, not that she would ever allow him to know that.

"Hi," she greeted back, then added, "what happened to you?"

"Oh, this," he quipped pointing at the cut on his forehead, "it's nothing. Don't worry about it. Just another day at the office."

"And what's all this?" She intended his get-up, but of course he'd make a joke of it.

"Chocolate, you said you were good with chocolate for Valentine's." Steve's smile grew a little wider.

"Very funny," Catherine replied smiling.

"Funny, huh?" They shared a moment of amusement, then she pointed out his injuries worriedly.

"Yeah, come in."

She finally stepped aside to let him enter. He followed her to the table in her lounge. Her sea bag was sitting on top of it, open as she was not quite done packing. She placed the box of chocolates inside just as he let his own bag fall onto one of the chairs near the table. He felt her eyes wander over his body, from his feet to his face, before they shared a long glance. The smile never left his face, it only grew a little more mischievous when he noticed a new light appear in her eyes. Catherine knew him so well, knew them together so well, she didn't have to guess where this was heading. They still had a few hours to kill before the flight for the gulf left at 22:00 h.

"So, what's with the uniform and the bag?," she asked as she turned toward him again.

Steve dropped his cap onto his bag, and went over to her to take her into his arms. She stepped closer laying her hands on his chest and looking up at him with a smile.

"Well, I felt bad that our weekend got blown up by a case-"

"Again," she reminded him.

"-again, and my reserve drill was coming up anyway, so I handed in a request to do it on the Enterprise...," he added quietly as if she needed him to clarify.

"Really?"

"Yeah," he coughed, "with you."

"You know," Catherine replied lifting her arms and twining them around his neck pulling herself closer. He could feel her soft breath ghost over his skin now. She was so close, he could already taste the kiss that was coming. His mouth quirked as he ached to close the distance. "That is _so_ _much_ better than chocolate."

He smirked.

"Yeah, I thought you might like that." He didn't kiss her, not yet. He wanted to savor the anticipation until the last possible moment, even when every cell in his body seemed to be set aflame by her proximity. He knew whatever was coming would be intense. The air around them was already thick with tension. Heady passion scented it, and Steve knew the darkness in her eyes was reflected in his own. Need, desire, anticipation and the poignancy of their feelings were sweetening their encounter, turning the wait into a sweet torture for them both. It wouldn't be long now before one of them gave in, only a few more teasing lines to create some semblance of normalcy.

Catherine hummed, and the vibration that sent through his body due to their closeness almost made him plunge them both headlong into the rewards of carnal sin. "Now, you do know that you'll also be doing your reserve drill with about... hmm... 3000 other sailors, right? So, we're not going to get a whole lot of time together."

He pulled her closer again, crushing her too him in a way that must have hurt. His brave Lieutenant didn't wince, though, nor protest, instead she pressed herself ever closer waiting for his answer. Their mouths only a hair's breadth apart, he murmured directly across her lips.

"Yeah, but... it's a really long flight." Then he kissed her without further ado, and lost himself completely in his desire for this woman in his arms. He picked her up cupping her bum with his hands, and relishing the press of her center against him as she hooked her legs around his waist, then hastily carried her up the stairs to her bedroom.

Something was different today. Maybe it was his recent brush with death, but he felt everything more intensely today, and he wanted to feel her, all of her. The silkiness of her sweet-scented hair, her nails scratching his skin, her teeth on his flesh until she drew blood. He wanted to be so close to her, so connected that he felt as if he'd crawled under her skin. That's how he wanted to love her that afternoon, he thought distractedly. Swiftly yet neatly, conscious of their later necessity for them, he removed her clothes to get to her gorgeous body. Catherine certainly matched his eagerness.

His kisses were demanding. When one hungry kiss ended, he immediately dove in for the next, not giving her time to even catch her breath. One of his hands wound into her hair to keep her head in place while the other fondled her breast, tweaking and twisting the nipple between his fingers. Her hands went to pull at his hair, but he moved them behind her back and held them there with a vice-like grip. He would allow for no distractions now. His mouth descended the curve of her throat leaving a trail of hot wet kisses and teasing nips, and he reveled in the sounds falling freely from her lips at his sweet torture. His finger glided lower to test her readiness. He found her so wet for him already that a low growl escaped his own lips. He didn't waste anymore time to drop her unceremoniously on the bed, cover her body with his own and join them. As Catherine cried out in rapture, Steve silenced his hiss of pleasure with a quick bite into her shoulder. Dimly he thought that he tasted a drop of blood but his mind was too foggy with pleasure to take proper notice. He placed her hands, still firmly held in his grip, above her head, and felt her arch against him, rubbing herself against his body in answer. Steve smirked at the motion. Even when he had the upper hand, she wouldn't let him have total control of her or of their coupling. He'd truly met his match with her. He let her go when he felt the first scratch of her fingers against the vulnerable skin of his wrists. Once freed, her hands made their way to the back of his hand and down to where his shoulders met his neck. She knew how sensitive he was to touch in that area, and he shivered violently against her. Let her play with him as she pleased.

Flattened against the length of his woman's body, he rocked them steadily yet forcefully. At each thrust he felt Catherine's nails burrowing deeper into his shoulders, then she raked them down his back no doubt leaving deep red lines on his skin. Between that and the sharp pain of her teeth at the juncture of his throat and clavicle, the sting in his pain receptors contrasted nicely with the pleasure that thrummed through his heated blood. Her legs had closed tightly around his hips, her ankles locking behind him. Each rocking motion had her tighten her hold to the point he struggled to breathe, but all was eclipsed by and interwoven with the experience of her unbridled passion. She pushed him on his back and away to separate their bodies enough for her hands to have more room to move; she used her fingers like claws to mark her territory with as she moved against him. She leaned down to him to nudge his face with her nose, and he playfully tried to bite her. When she shifted her head out of reach slowly, he let his teeth scrape along her throat. With a high-pitched moan Catherine sat back, flattened her hands against his chest and met his every upward stroke with a thrust of her own. Their mating was harsh, and the grimaces of pleasure and pain on their faces were hardly attractive under other circumstances. In his current state of mind, though, he drank in the sight of her, luscious skin glowing faintly in the afternoon light, eyes dark with desire, uncontrolled expressions on her face, the tiny marks where he'd nipped at her skin, and it only turned him on more. She was the hottest, most sensual, desirable creature he'd ever laid eyes on, and he wanted her. He wanted her and needed her like his next breath. He wanted her closer. So he tumbled them over again and took back control. Catherine gave a surprised yelp, then a loud moan when he pressed even closer to her. It wasn't enough; he couldn't get close enough.

He nipped a trail along the underside of each breast, then his mouth latched onto the soft mound, sucking and biting at it until his woman was near delirious with the pleasure-pain he was providing. He moved his lips hungrily up her chest to her neck. A hand came up to twist in her hair; he loved the feeling of her silky strands slipping through his fingers, and so he brushed through them a couple of times when suddenly his eyes fell onto a speck of blue. Without conscious thought his tongue came out to lick at her skin there. For a moment he entertained the idea of turning her around just so he could sink his teeth into that blue star tattoo that decorated the back of her neck. When he had asked her about it once, she had only smiled a Mona Lisa smile and said that a girl needed to have her secrets. Somehow, now, leaving his mark there seemed important, but he didn't want to part from her even for the brief moment it would take to change positions.

"Come for me, Cath," he ordered hoarsely. He strained his neck a little and sank his teeth into the spot he could reach, noting with satisfaction when she bit him in return. He felt her fingers dig into the cheeks of his ass, and the sharp pain had him thrust faster, harder. His hand reached down between their bodies to rub over her sensitive bud furiously. He pinched it in time with his thrusts, and her teeth only sank deeper into his flesh. Their quietened moans rang loud in his ears as their passion reached its pinnacle.

They lay still entwined and boneless for a few long moments. He raised his head to look at her face, and was met with her hooded gaze. Steve searched it intently for any sign of discomfort or displeasure. It had been mere moments ago, but he could scarcely believe what had just transpired. He had never been so... forceful with her before. She had peaked, but he'd hardly given her any choice in the matter as he's manhandled her lithe body. The idea that she might not have been on the same page with him, horrified him. When he rolled off her, Catherine rolled with him until her cheek rested against his chest. Only their panting filled the silence in her bedroom before his hand stroked over her skin. She tiredly batted his hand away, but he just resumed his caress until his fingers found the apex of her thighs.

"You're insatiable," Catherine laughed. "What are you doing?"

"Taking care of you," he whispered hoarsely.

"You already have." She smiled at him sincerely. "I don't think I've ever come so hard in my life."

"Yeah, but..." The confused look on her face struck a cord with him. Couldn't she see? "Just let me... do this for you."

He continued to stroke her gently, and her reaction did not get by him. Catherine's eyes fluttered closed, and the little whimper she gave was equal parts pleasure and pain, despite the lightness of his touch. It tore at him. He had never wanted to hurt her; he just hadn't been able to help himself. He'd needed to feel her so damn much, he'd ached to be ever closer. His gaze wandered over the bruises already marring her beautiful skin. More would be visible in a little while, no doubt. He'd obviously overdone it quite a bit. He wanted to make up for it, in whatever little ways he could. He wanted to give her only pleasure. She deserved it after his harsh treatment of her. He wanted to love her again, the way she deserved to be loved. Then maybe she would believe him when he told her... Steve cleared his mind of all unnecessary thoughts. Only his knowledge of how to make her body sing remained. With this single-minded focus he began to make his way down her body with light kisses as two of his fingers sank into her. Her hands halted his movements. He looked up at her face unprepared for the intensity of her eyes.

"Steve, there wasn't a moment that I wasn't one hundred per cent with you." He choked down on a sob. She had always been the one to understand him completely, but sometimes she seemed to read his mind. What she was saying was what he wanted, needed to hear, and he knew deep down that she would never lie to him to make him feel better, but still he could not believe that he should so easily be forgiven.

"Cath, I-"

"No, don't. Don't apologize and don't beat yourself up about this, especially where I can see it." She paused briefly to make sure he understood her. "I like slow and sweet, and I like hard and fast, and I knew the moment I opened my door to see you standing there with your scrapes and bruises that today would be a hard-and-fast day. I wouldn't trade a moment of that. I don't regret anything. Neither should you."

"You sure?", he asked. "I know I was a bit... overzealous."

"That's putting it mildly," she chuckled, then stopped when she noticed him duck his head and avert his eyes in response. He kissed her skin softly. "Look, do I want every time to be like this? No, but I enjoy rough sex as much as the next gal once in a while. And if this," she gave an experimental shove against his hand to emphasize her point, her mouth opening in a quiet moan, "is your way of apologizing for playing rough, I am _not_ _ever _going to complain."

A grin found its way back onto Steve's face as he returned to the task he had begun earlier. Shifting himself down her body, he resumed stroking her. He never stopped gazing at her face, even when her eyes fluttered shut and she started to bite her lip to keep from screaming his name once his mouth joined his fingers and began to lavish attention to her sweet spot. His other hand held onto her as tight as he dared to minimize her movements once she began to sway her hips against him to achieve more friction to please herself. Her right hand took a firm grip of his hair urging him to give her more. Simultaneously she gave up on keeping quiet, something Steve took great pride in, setting himself to the task of eliciting all the sounds from her that always made his heart thunder in his chest.

They still had a few hours until their flight out, so they eventually decided to get some sleep before getting a bite to eat and go. When Steve woke up again, it was to the sound of the shower running in the en suite bathroom. At first he was put out that she hadn't asked him to join her, then a grin spread across his face at the thought that cleaning would not be a part of any activity in that same shower if he were there with her. Perhaps it had been a smart move of her to let him sleep on. He didn't find it surprising that he hadn't woken when she got up, despite usually being a light sleeper. Catherine rocked his world every night – or day – they tumbled through the sheets together, and he slept like a stone afterwards every time. He heard the shower turn off, and headed into the bathroom. Steve stopped in the doorway to appreciate the view of Catherine standing in front of her medicine cabinet naked as the day she was born to dry her hair. His small smile quickly turned into a scowl at the shock of seeing the entire extent of the... damage he'd done. Time had allowed the bruises to take on a dark purple color, there were marks in the shape of his hands on her legs and back and he hadn't even seen the front yet, where he knew there also were a lot of bite marks. Her wrists were black and blue from his grip. From his position he could only see the partial imprint of his teeth on her shoulder from when he'd tried to reach her star tattoo, and it was deep and angry red. She looked like she'd been through more than a bit of rough sex, a lot more. She looked like... His throat choked up and he felt sick to the stomach. A rattled breath escaped his lips, and he didn't dare finish that thought, but, oh, what had he done?!

She looked like she had been ra-

"No," Catherine said decisively as if she'd read his thoughts from the expression on his face again. She turned around and strode over to him with her index finger extended toward him. Her voice was as firm as he felt weak. "No, don't even think it. Don't you dare."

She literally grabbed his shoulders and shook him, and he thought that couldn't be all. Where was the punch he deserved? The knee to his groin?

"Stop thinking that, Steve. This was entirely consensual."

"Cath, even you have to admit I was more... forceful than... I didn't... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I should have stopped. Why didn't you stop me when I was hurting you?"

"Because I wanted it, and because I barely even noticed that it hurt. It wasn't like pain then, more like another form of pleasure. I enjoyed it, Steve, so stop beating yourself up about it. Do you honestly think any of that would have happened if I hadn't wanted it as much as you did?! Think of what I would have done to you if I hadn't wanted to screw you into the next millennium."

Her crass words hit him like a fist in the gut and cleared his thoughts making him listen to her. Thinking about it logically, he knew that he'd have ended up on the floor next to the bed with a broken hipbone and without his manhood if he'd laid a finger on her without her consent, and only then would she have stormed downstairs, called the cops and had his sorry ass arrested by his own team. Steve swallowed, because the knowledge did little to placate his self-loathing. There was more she had to say, he knew her well enough to know that she had a trump card she hadn't played yet. He focused on her, and let her manhandle him towards the mirror above her sink, He figured he owed her that; to be as complacent to her forceful manipulation of his body as she had been to his. He also suspected that a part of him wanted her to convince him. She grasped his chin and turned his face toward the mirror.

"Take a good look at yourself, Steve, and tell me I didn't give as good as I got."

That was the first time he saw the marks she'd left on his body. Some wounds that apparently had been recently bleeding had scabbed over. There were a lot of those. He turned to the side, only to see even more. Long streaks down his back covered with scab. Bite marks across his throat and shoulders, even one on his left pectoral, and the indentations left by her vice-like grip completed the picture. Compared to his escapade with Catherine, he looked like he'd gotten out of his car accident that day unscathed.

"Wow," he whispered.

"Will you stop beating yourself up now or do you actually want me to kick your ass?!", Catherine asked furiously looking quite the part of the lioness that had marred his skin.

Steve still felt somewhat guilty at manhandling her so. He'd been taught to never mistreat a woman, which was exactly what he had done, no matter how much Cath had enjoyed it, but he couldn't help his answering grin.

5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0

_(Pearl-Hickam, 22:00h)_

They made their way on board the military transport the Air Force furnished to get all sailors back to their respective posts. The USS Enterprise was still stationed in the Gulf so everyone would be flown to the nearest air base and then carted over in smaller planes fit to land on deck. It wasn't comfortable by any means and their was no privacy, but Steve and Catherine managed to snatch two spots beside one another. This environment was not made for relaxation, and they'd have to be careful how they interacted. They were close, though, their bodies touching down the length of one side and it was enough. Steve's overwhelming need for physical contact had subsided somewhat, though he still reveled in the feel of Catherine pressed to him by the burly man sitting on her other side. When she kept fidgeting with the collar of her shirt and BDUs, a little twinge of guilt settled in his stomach. She was trying to hide the marks he'd left as best as she could while sticking to Navy dress code; even with the amount of make up she'd applied earlier, it wasn't easy.

He saw her sent an especially nasty glare at one particularly impudent Petty Officer across from them who'd noticed her efforts and was leering at her. Steve felt like putting the man in his place himself, but he couldn't show any overt reaction lest he wanted to get both Catherine and himself into trouble. He couldn't quite suppress the smirk of satisfaction when Cath's death glare had its intended effect, making the insolent youth cower and avert his gaze. What they did on shore leave was one thing – nobody paid attention, and anyone who noticed would turn away pretending not to have seen – but they couldn't be that open while in uniform and on duty. It really was going to be a long flight, he concluded a little more surly than his earlier quip would have made them believe. He sighed and tried to get comfortable.

"Don't lean back too far; it could come back to bite you, Commander," a voice said making him sit up straight again. Looking up he found Lieutenant Storm gazing down at him calmly, tapping a finger subtly against the lower part of his neck. Steve adjusted his uniform to cover his own battle wounds with a grin. Michael then turned to Catherine. "And you need to stop fidgeting, Kitten, you're just attracting attention. We wouldn't want anyone to look too closely, right?"

His voice was just loud enough for them to hear, but Cath stopped moving immediately. Michael took the seat right beside Steve, who saw Carlos and Jack make the burly man shift down a few seats in the row to sit down next to his lover. Catherine smiled gratefully at them. They may not have been much smaller, but she'd take the embarrassment of falling asleep and drooling on one of their shoulders over a stranger's any day.

"Rough day?", Jack asked quietly from his seat. "Your boyfriend keep you up much?"

Steve just glared at him.

"Intense, certainly," was all Catherine gave as a response, but the smile on her face relieved him quite a bit. Steve guessed it would still take a while for him to get used to the idea that she was okay... with everything. "One of the best days of my life though."

That comment very nearly made his chest swell a little, but Mick knew how to prevent that by poking him in the ribs. Feeling playful, Steve poked him back, and that's what led to the competition. It was an all-out poking war for the next couple of minutes, taunting and teasing, and a loud sigh that sounded suspiciously like "Boys..." included. Eventually everyone had taken their place, and they were airborne. The first couple of hours were spent talking about their leave. Mick had visited his wife and kids to take them on a short trip to the main island. Jack and Carlos, both single and happy with it, had gone sky-diving and jungle trekking during the day and immersed themselves in the urban nightlife come dusk. Neither of them remembered how many women they'd gotten to know, if everybody got their drift, and in one instance Jack didn't even quite remember what the girl looked like, only that he thought she was hot as hell.

"You're man whores, the both of you," Catherine stated in complete seriousness, then chuckled. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, mum," Carlos quipped back.

"Better than being completely whipped like those two dickless morons," Jack commented with a flick of his finger towards the other two members of his SEAL team.

Catherine bit back a comment about Steve's... endowment that she would not have held back in private, and instead enjoyed the man's flustered reaction. His mouth opened and closed several times like a fish's, before he looked at Mick, then at her as if asking for help. Catherine just shrugged her shoulders in fake disinterest. Mick put a hand on his friend's arm and shook his head.

"At least I know that I've performed the next morning without wondering if the booze turned me temporarily impotent."

Catherine threw back her head and laughed, even Steve chuckled, making a couple of heads turn in their direction. Mick's comment had been whispered, but her and Steve's reaction had been rather too merry. Her other two boys pouted while she nearly doubled over laughing. She finally caught herself when some people started pointing at them and whispering. Catherine adjusted her uniform self-consciously. Her boys noticed and a quick round of warning glares got everybody to mind their own business again. Sobering up completely, Catherine told the men that on that merry notion she wished them goodnight. Leaning her head back, she was a goner in under a minute. The boys continued their arguing over the benefits and losses of being attached and single a bit more quietly at first, but eventually lost interest. For a long while there was silence between the friends, partially so as not to disturb their sleeping companion, but mostly because they enjoyed what little quiet they could get on a military transport. The engine was always humming, or growling more likely, but it was so constant they barely noticed it after a while. Everyone else was making themselves comfortable to catch some precious few hours of sleep while they were in flight, and the men decided to follow their example. The last to drift off were Mick and Steve.

"You okay, partner?", Mick asked carefully. He'd wanted to talk to Steve for hours, but there had been to many prying ears.

"Yeah, I... she just awes me," Steve replied without looking at Catherine, though the desire to was almost overwhelming since her head had lolled to the side resting against his shoulder a couple of minutes ago. For everyone who may still catch a glimpse, it had to look like he didn't even notice, like he wasn't interested and talking about someone else. Their relationship was perhaps one of the worst kept secrets, but it was very much a don't ask, don't tell kinda thing, and Steve would like to keep it that way in order to stay out of trouble. "I didn't think she'd be okay with... all of that. There is a lot of... damage..."

"Yeah, your girlfriend is pretty damn awesome," Mick answered jovially. His look was stern, though. "You want some advice?"

"From the guy who's been married since BUDs, hell yes." Steve didn't normally admit that he needed help, but what had transpired earlier had unsettled him.

"Just follow her lead," the other SEAL told him seriously. "If she doesn't worry, neither should you or you might just create a problem where there is none."

"Mick, I... was pretty harsh."

"Has she kicked your ass? Called the cops? Told Jack, Carlos and me to avenge her?"

"No."

"Then stop worrying. Or she'll kick your ass for not taking her at her word. If she says she's okay with it, she's okay with it. Believe her, or she'll turn that on you asking if you think she's helpless or witless or just a liar, and any of those questions are as bad as asking if she's gained weight."

They both chuckled at that one. When he was right...

"If you can't put your mind to rest, bury the issue," Mick went on, then added more quietly, "and observe her actions to see if something changes in how she is and reacts around you. If nothing does, maybe that will get your stupid guilt to shut it."

Steve bit his lip, but nodded. It was worth a try.

"You know," Steve piped up to change the subject, "I'm glad you guys will be on the Enterprise as well. Otherwise my reserve drills could get even more testing."

"At least you won't be the only SEAL sitting at Kitten's table, huh?!", Mick joked back quietly, giving him a nudge. "Have someone around to keep you straight."

"Hey, what are you implying?!," the Lieutenant Commander questioned affronted. "I'll let you know that I'm perfectly capable of behaving myself in a work environment."

"Yeah, I think you behaving yourself in a work environment is what started off the first round of rumors." Mick grinned maliciously.

Catherine cooed a little on Steve shoulder, snuggling closer before he could reply. God, he wanted to wrap his arm around her to pull her closer. He resisted the urge to do anything, barely. If he thought this would be a long flight, he sure as hell was in for an even longer reserve drill. Though he wouldn't really get that much time with her, because of their diverse schedule. If he was lucky, he'd get a couple of meals, maybe some training in one of the recreational rooms at the same time. Perhaps he could get her to spar with him – or with some of the newbie SEALs that were bound to be there; that would be hilarious. It wouldn't always be like this. He was in the reserves, and if they were lucky, she wouldn't always gallivant around the world either. Maybe she could get a transfer to Pearl if they managed to get their act together properly. It would only be natural for her to stay with him, great house, private beach. They could put up a Hollywood chair and watch the sunset. Steve caught himself smiling at the thought as he leaned back to catch some shut eye himself, and decided that whatever he could have, would be enough. For now.

5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0

_(Udeid [2])_

Arriving at the base at Udeid, they were battered. They'd been in the air for most of the day, and were looking forward to getting a few hours of sleep before being shipped out to the USS Enterprise. Luckily it was late at night when they arrived in Udeid. Further transport was arranged for the early morning. The base seemed almost deserted. The night shift was already working and everybody else had gone to bed by now, so they didn't encounter many zoomies or Qatari air force officers while Steve accompanied her to her quarters. They stopped at her door, and Catherine turned to him. This was the end of the line for tonight. They looked at each other, and more words passed between them in the silence than they could have said in hours of conversation. A quick glance to make sure that no one was there to witness it, then Steve raised his hand to gently pry the barrette from her hair. His hand lingered briefly, and his fingers brushed the skin of her cheek and neck as they retreated. This was as much intimacy as they could allow themselves, more than perhaps he should have dared to seek, but he reveled in bestowing a soft touch on her after the recent coarseness.

"Goodnight, Lieutenant," he whispered softly.

"Well goodnight, Commander," she teased back, her eyes still closed to savor the last imprints of his touch.

Reluctantly Steve walked down the hall. Catherine waited until he had turned the corner after one last look at her, then went inside and closed the door behind her swiftly. Without taking one glance around the room – if you'd see one, you'd seen them all – Catherine set about getting ready for bed. She rapidly undid the buttons on her uniform shirt shrugging out of it, then pulled her shirt up over her head. She was about to undo her trousers when a small gasp in the corner of the room drew her attention. Turning toward the noise, the Lieutenant noticed her peer with whom it appeared she would be sharing the room for the night. It was a petite woman in her twenties with a short crop of chestnut brown hair. Her expression was shocked, her mouth hung open in horror and she was white as a sheet. A hand was raised slowly, disbelievingly to her face. Catherine raised an eyebrow skeptically, daring the other woman to say something or, preferably, hold her goddamn peace. She'd had enough of that discussion when she'd argued with Steve; everybody else ought to keep their mouths shut and mind their own business.

The woman said nothing, and climbed into bed. Catherine went back to undressing herself with the sinking feeling that resuming her duty would just get worse from here on out.

**End of chapter 1!**

**A/N: **So, yeah, some Barry White, but will it cause problems for our favorite couple? You bet it will. **  
><strong>

**(1)** I relocated the scene to Catherine's house, 'cause I found it a little weird that she'd stay in a hotel when it would later be shown that she owns a house on Oahu.

**(2)** I do not own that base, and I picked it more or less randomly for its location at the Persian Gulf.


	3. Chapter 2

**Trouble**

**Summary:** Just how much trouble can Steve get into during one tiny reserve drill?

**Pairings:** Steve/Cath, minor Kono/Adam, Chin/Malia

**Warning****s: -**

**Chapter 2 **

They had very little time to unpack once they'd boarded the aircraft carrier, so Catherine and her long-time friend Patricia Sanders hurried to their quarters. Brushing past dozens of other sailors rushing through the slim corridors, Catherine's mind shifted from the jovial lookout it had kept for the time of their transport to focusing on her work. During the flight from Udeid the boys had sat together busy joking with and teasing each other. She'd sat with Patricia and two of her other female colleagues – Laura Higgins and Sarah Adams – to catch up to the latest news. Apparently they had a new JAG officer on board, a newly minted Lieutenant Commander with the good looks, smart mouth and smarmy attitude that would cause trouble. Well, Sarah had never much liked lawyers since she'd been divorced from hers. The other three women hadn't found any particular interest in the JAG officer; they were intelligence after all, and would hardly ever run into him. If they did, and he'd get cocky, they'd just put him in his place. The rest of the flight had gone smoother. They'd talked about their upcoming work, men,whether or not they'd been left with a broken heart, and who'd had the most satisfying shore leave – not necessarily in that order...

As soon as Catherine had waved goodbye to her men, she had been dragged off by Jenny so that they'd make it in time. Their supervising officer didn't have any patience for lateness or slacking off during working hours. Therefore the two women quickly set to work to unpack all the necessary once they'd reached their cabin, swiftly yet neatly moving clothes and objects from their duffel bags to their lockers. They didn't exchange any words as they were too concentrated on the task. There'd be time for more chatter later. It was hot in the cabin, the sun burning down on the ship and its metal skeleton passing it on to its insides. They were close to the outer wall, Catherine didn't want to know what it must be like in the belly of the ship. Her mind was briefly filled with concern for her boys as she opened two buttons on her BDUs in order to breathe a little easier. It would be only minutes until she'd have to close them up again, but she relished in the feeling while she could.

"Wow, had a rough night?", Patricia's teasing voice broke the silence between them after she whistled appreciatively. Catherine raised her gaze to see what she was looking at, but she already knew. Evidence of her and Steve's extracurricular activity must have shown through her opened uniform. She turned toward her friend with a broad and wicked grin. "No wonder lover boy had a shit-eating grin on his face during the entire flight, and he kept casting furtive glances at you. He's probably hoping for an encore performance soon – maybe in a supply closet."

"Shut up!", Catherine snapped playfully, but she was glad Patricia had a better reaction than the young woman last night. She released a sigh she hadn't known she was holding. A part of her had feared to earn revulsion from her friends. Then again, she hadn't seen everything yet, but it was one step of the way. "We're not like that, not on the Enterprise. We wouldn't ever risk our carriers like that. We could be court-martialed."

"You could be court-martialed anyway," Patricia replied humorously. "Your liaison with McGarrett is probably the worst kept secret in the whole Navy. Everybody knows, or why do you think sailors stay away. You've got that pretty face and the trained body to go with it, and you think they leave you alone 'cause you're their colleague?! They scared shitless of McGarrett."

"And they'd know I'd kick their asses," Catherine added with a scoff. "Uhm, listen... uh, there is... more." She was tapping her finger lightly against the bruise in a not so subtle way until Trish's eyes took on a gleam.

"How much more?"

"A lot." She spared a glance at her watch, and decided she might as well change into a new pair of BDUs that she hadn't traveled in for two days. She wasn't usually squeamish about this, but personal hygiene was important, and this way she could kill two birds with a stone. So she stripped out of her uniform, and let Patricia take in her shocked breath. Catherine ducked her head fighting hot tears. She'd hoped her friends would understand better, she thought, as Trish kept staring at her taking in her appearance, and the seconds ticked by slow as an eternity.

"Need a Tylenol or something?", she finally quipped, and Catherine did burst into tears after all as relief flooded her. They laughed together helplessly, and hugged briefly. Catherine could bloody kiss Trish for... just being herself.

The dark-haired woman shook her head, and they went back to business. Once Catherine was dressed again and everything was packed away neatly into their lockers, they headed swiftly in the direction of their work stations. They'd meet Laura and Sarah there, and get straight to work. Catherine's mind shifted again from Steve and her worry about how Patricia may react when she saw the complete extend of the markings to be singularly focused on her task. She'd be going over satellite imagery and data streams for the rest of the day. It wasn't the most exciting job in the world, but she was good at it. As soon as she'd been assigned to her first work station in Coronado, she'd found that she had a knack for intelligence work and that she loved it.

When she was at work, nothing else existed in the world, only numbers and images, information and what she could do with it. She didn't think of Steve, of Oahu or what life could be like once she'd reach retirement age. She barely took notice of her surroundings or the people that came with it. When somebody called her, they usually had to say her name a couple of times. The only voice that got to her with a single word was her supervising officer. Maybe it was her Navy survival instinct, but the voice of her superior caught her attention even when she was immersed in a ton of data and her brain completely occupied with deciding on their value. So despite the fact that she was headlong in an attempt to trace the steps of all collaboration of the Haqqani and the Taliban network along the Afghanistan-Pakistan border, the voice of Commander Richard Fenn's trickled through her brain to reach her conscious thought. She blinked once, twice, losing her concentration and the trail she been following. Sighing, Catherine gave into the distraction; she knew she'd find her way back to where she'd been in deciphering the Intel again once she could regain focus. Whatever the reason for her distraction, a quick indulgence was the wiser path than to try and fight it only to lose.

"No, really," she heard Fenn say distantly. Looking up she saw that he was on the phone with somebody. His gaze settled on her for a brief moment with something between wonder and shock, then flitted away to look at the wall beside the phone. "No, everything seems fine, though I haven't had a proper look, obviously, sir."

He waited for a reply from the other end with another glance at her. Catherine frowned. Since when was Commander Fenn so interested in her?

"Yes, sir," he said, and hung up. Then he turned to her, looking at her for a long while this time before ordering her back to work.

Catherine quietly resumed her duties, and quickly found the end of her previously conducted investigation again. As she refocused all her efforts into locating any of the terrorist cells along the border as well as their diverse weapons transports, the half of the strange conversation she'd heard kept niggling at the back of her mind. The hairs on her neck had stood up when she thought to see something akin to pity in his last gaze, mixed with anger and grim determination. She wasn't sure what to make of all of that, so she continued with her duties and decided to contemplate all the rest at a later date.

5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0

They were dropped into the water like buoys. There was a large splash when his body made contact with the ocean. He felt himself going under with all his clothes and gear, then a million tiny freezing cold needles pricking at him was all he felt. This went on even after he broke the surface again. Steve was pretty much on autopilot. He wasn't quite sure how his arms and legs managed to move through the cold and the pain, and it wasn't a conscious effort, but they did and they kept his head above the water. He looked around. The swell wasn't as bad as he'd expected it to be, even hough they'd dropped them at some distance from the Enterprise, and he could see his team mates. They had been dispersed rather thoroughly across the surface, and now they'd have to find there way back together and reach the lifeboat – if they could bloody well find it. So far Steve's day had been nothing unexpected. From the deck he'd and his men had been ushered directly to a training room. Adapting to the lack of space on an aircraft carrier their warm-up consisted of a two-hour period of push ups, sit up, running on the spot and squats. Then they'd been driven out onto the ocean in the very lifeboat they were supposed to reach again now, and thrown overboard. They'd been left to stew for an eternity before the lifeboat had turned back around, and they had to manage to get inside while it flitted past them.

Once that had happened, they'd been escorted to a chopper on deck of the Enterprise, flown out again and made to jump. Yep, perfect day for him. Steve made his first few strokes toward the closest point he could make out that was at a reasonable distance from the others as well. Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of his fellow SEALs do the same. His gut instinct told him it was Mick. Steve didn't know how, but no matter how much camouflage paint, grease, dust, sand or whatever was all over his friend, he always recognized Mick as if they were mentally linked twins. The cold had subsided by the time Steve made his fifth stroke, mostly due to the fact that the ocean seemed intent on fighting him at every move. Steve's breathing had quickened, and now he was panting. His heart was hammering, his muscles straining from the exercise, and he was effectively getting nowhere.

At this rate, it would take ages to get to the meeting point and it would be utterly exhausting. Once Steve and the other would have made it passed all the problems, they'd probably be ordered back into the chopper, and dropped in the ocean again. A change of direction was in order. A look around assured him that the others had noticed it too. They would try to swim as much with the current as possible, instead of against it. Determining a new gathering point, everyone headed out from their position. They kept checking on each other to find the most accurate route. The current wasn't pulling at him anymore, wasn't about to wash him away, but Steve was still heaving with every stroke. Finally, he reached the gathering point, and had to worry only about keeping himself afloat for a moment. When the last man made it to them, they were a group of eight shivering SEALs. Everyone looked around for a boat, and, as expected, it was in the opposite direction of the swell.

"Looks like they're having fun," Steve commented dryly.

"Wanna go hide under the covers, reserve?!", one of the other men taunted. "Don't tell me civilian life has made you soft, you delicate flower."

"Not as soft as you've always been, Cowden," Jack barked back, earning him a scowl from the man. "I bet you that Smooth Dog will beat your sorry ass to that boat."

Steve wanted to groan. Jack had the unfortunate inclination to make bets and start games in his name. He saw Mick's pitying gaze on him, and glared at the man. Steve wouldn't have made the challenge himself, but he wasn't about to butt out of it either. Mick's pity turned into a knowing grin: damn it, the guy knew him way to well. Steve scoffed, and Mick turned back to the others to focus their attention on the problem at hand.

"If you ladies are quite done, maybe we can make our way to the lifeboat now?", he suggested sarcastically. "I don't fancy spending all day here."

"Fine. We'll see what your semi-retired Commander is worth," Cowden baited him, and had Steve not been really keen to get out of the water, he might have taken a swing at him for that comment. He was not semi-retired, and he took personal issue with anyone implying that. Danny had made the comment once, and learned the error of his ways immediately, though Steve had refrained from actually hitting him due to previous experience of the detective's likely reaction to being manhandled. He had however send him a death glare that had made Danny stop dead in his tracks and shut up for the whole explanation and five minutes to boot. Danny had never again used the word retirement and his name in the same conversation.

Seeing as he really did want to get warm again, Steve just rolled his eyes and made his way towards the lifeboat. He paid no particular attention to Cowden, though he made an effort to stay close to his comrades as they all did. They were a team, and their strength came from being united. They would reach the boat as a group or not at all. Every stroke was a mammoth task that would have them gasping for air, therefore they controlled their breathing carefully in order to preserve energy. Steve's arms and legs were beginning to hurt, the usual burn he got through training setting in. Some people said it got easier once you worked through the burn by continuing with the activity until it lessened. All Steve could say was that it got bearable over time, but never easy. His reserve drill wasn't meant to be easy, it was supposed to keep him in shape and ready for combat if his country needed him.

By the time they got into earshot of their drill sergeant, the insults were already flying left and right and Steve wondered briefly what Catherine would think and do if she heard half of the name-calling that involved mentions of the female disposition. He squashed that pleasant but distracting thought. Other than that his ears didn't even take notice of the abuse. He was too tired. Steve couldn't take how long they had taken to get across what had maybe been slightly under a mile, but he was beyond exhausted. It felt like hours. He was so cold, his limbs felt hot, unnaturally warm. He felt his eyes droop every few seconds like his body wanted to fall asleep, only to be jerked awake by his survival instinct kicking in and the salty water splashing into his face. He'd drunk quite a bit of that, and thinking about it made him feel like his stomach was overstretched, though he knew logically that he hadn't swallowed nearly enough water for that. He felt like giving in and allowing himself to sink; he knew they'd fish him out of the water. What kept him going was that he was used to this feeling from SEAL training and missions, and he'd been taught to tell that feeling to shove it. So instead he grasped hold to pull himself into the lifeboat. Dragging himself into the boat was the hardest part if only because it was the final action required of him. Every muscle in his body began to throb as he heaved himself up into the lifeboat. The burning got so bad, it spread though his whole form and seemed to seep into his brain. He couldn't think, blinded as he was by the exertion. When he sank onto the plastic ground, he coughed a couple of times. Regulating your breathing could only do so much; he needed air and badly. Shifting to one side and into a sitting position, he waited for the rest of his team.

Contrary to Steve's expectation they were not dumped into the water again, but made to march their shivering, pitiful masses straight to the infirmary under the ever-present string of insults from their training officer. Apparently, they had taken so long that last time that the Enterprise's doctor wanted a piece of them. Said Doctor barked at them to strip down to nothing, wrap themselves in warm blankets and get into the trauma beds. Wet clothes hit the floor as fast as the SEALs could manage to get out of them in spite of their cold-induced movement disorder. Steve could barely close his fingers around anything, and trying to pull his shirt over his head or open his trousers seemed an impossible task. They were all a bit embarrassed when the nurses decided to start helping them. They were goddamn SEALs, and they couldn't get out of their own clothes. As Steve attempted to get a nurse to lay off him, an appreciative whistle caught his attention. Several more catcalls followed.

"Wow, mangled by the weaker sex, Commander!", one man called.

"Damn, that girl can scratch," Jack commented upon seeing the full extent of his friend's injuries for the first time. Steve flushed a little thinking of what the scabbed over streaks on his back must look like. He fought the urge to grab a blanket and hide behind it like a shield. He would take this like a man.

"Tu novia es una gatita selvaje." He smirked at Carlos. A feral kitten, indeed, Steve thought as his memories took him back to how she'd overthrown him that day.

"She's not my girlfriend," he said anyway, and the three other men in his team rolled their eyes.

"Listen to him," another SEAL, Hector Warren, commented, pointing his thumb in Steve's direction. His eyes were filled with quiet admiration, even as he picked the older SEAL apart. "Dude, you're henpecked. Be man enough to admit it. Your woman must be a beautiful and dangerous creature. I'd like to shake her hand, among other things."

"She's more woman than you could handle, Warren," Steve rebuked him gruffly. The men laughed easily together. Steve didn't share Catherine, and he didn't generally appreciate such comments about her, but Warren hadn't meant anything by it. He'd never go after a brother's girl. It was just a joke amongst men – or boys, as Cath would call them if she could see them right now.

"I see why they call you Smooth Dog," Cowden told him, walking over and around Steve to get a good look. Steve's face closed off when he realized what Cowden was talking about. Mick, Jack and Carlos came closer as the rest of their comrades stilled their laughter and movement. Everyone seemed to feel the tension that was building between the two men. Carlos signaled the nurses to step back behind the SEALs in order to get them out of the way of the fight that was coming, especially considering how Cowden went on. "I want that broad's number."

That was the kind of comment Steve couldn't tolerate; it made his blood boil. Mick, ever the peacekeeper, stepped in before fists could fly.

"Steve, leave it," was the first thing he said, then he turned to Cowden. "And you, not another word. The Commander's girlfriend is not anyone's broad, and you'd do well never to repeat that to me again, or I'll tell her you said that."

"And trust me, compared to what she'll do to you, a brawl with McGarrett will look like a Sunday brunch," Carlos interjected.

Tension lay thick in the air as the two men stared at each other. Nobody moved until the smirk on Cowden's face slowly slipped off as he realized how serious Carlos was about what he said. Mick had positioned himself between Steve and Cowden, one hand on his friend's arm to keep him from doing something stupid in defense of his girlfriend's honor. Mick could feel him shaking in his restraint. Carlos stood to one side, and they could see Jack behind Cowden. You never messed with a SEAL or their loved ones if you didn't want the whole team coming down hard on you, and Steve's Cath was someone special to all four of them.

"If anyone is thinking of starting a fight in my trauma room, I'll be performing prostate exams for the rest of the day," Doctor Jason Taylor threatened. That got a reaction from all of them.

"Okay, relax," Cowden backpedaled. "Must be some woman."

"My woman," Steve said in a low voice. He might as well have bared his teeth at the other man.

5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0

When she was ordered to see the Doctor about a physical exam in the infirmary after her working hours, Catherine had to consciously suppress a frown. It was a little early into her tour to check for an unwanted pregnancy, so she came to the conclusion that a Lieutenant in Udeid needed a lecture in staying out of business that did not concern her. She must have reported the sight Catherine had made the previous night. She mentally brushed her anger away as she came to a halt before the infirmary. She bit her lip. Once she was in there, she'd have a bit of explaining to do. The Doctor would want an explanation for her physical state; she'd have to make him believe her, or the Navy would not stop asking invasive questions and she'd be send to a psychiatrist.

When she entered, Doctor Taylor was nowhere to be found. She let her glance wander about the room. The infirmary seemed empty. Instead of leaving like she wanted to, Catherine stepped further into the room, and noticed that the door to the trauma room was slightly ajar and the curtains of the large glass wall separating it from the rest of the infirmary were closed. She could hear voices coming from inside the trauma room, and ventured to the entrance; finding Doctor Taylor was certainly a bonus to the sight of eight mostly naked Navy SEALs. Catherine grinned when she saw Steve amongst them, then frowned. Doctor Taylor was bound to notice the similarities of their 'battle wounds'. She wanted to curse.

"Now that we've cleared this all up, get under those covers before you catch pneumonia."

"Don't tell us shit, Doctor. The water's too warm for that," Jack replied with a laugh.

"Not if I add a bucket of ice water to your treatment, Petty Officer," the Doctor replied testily, and Jack wisely caved. "Now, into bed. I'll call you, examine you, and if you're fine, you can leave. If you show any signs of hypothermia, you're staying here. Everyone clear?"

The SEALs nodded quietly. Catherine smiled slightly, then cleared her throat.

"Woman on deck," she informed them jokingly, and watched delighted as everyone scrambled for shelter. She had to raise a hand to her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud. Her shoulders were shaking as she watched all the flustered activity. Doctor Taylor turned toward her with a smirk of his own. He informed the men that they might as well get comfortable, 'cause it would be ladies first. Then he warned them not to create any more problems, a threatening finger in the air as a not so subtle hint. Catherine cocked her head to the side when she saw the men's scared reaction, but shrugged it off when the good doctor joined her in the infirmary and closed the door.

"This way, Lieutenant Rollins," he told her and led her to the examination table in the other room. There was a small area that was curtained off so that she could undress in private. The doctor made sure they'd be left alone during the exam, and when she came back out, he took two seconds of stunned silence to process what he saw. He rubbed the back of his nose, clearly considering what a mess of paper work was coming his way. "Alright, this is obviously going to take a while. Have a seat, Lieutenant, and tell me your story."

"It's not a story, sir, it's the truth," Catherine replied a little defensively. Commander Taylor raised his hand.

"I'm not doubting you before you even opened your mouth, Lieutenant, I'm just trying to create the most comfortable atmosphere. The fact that you react so defensively already, makes me wonder if you have something to be defensive about..."

He switched on the lamp near the table and took note of the first few injuries. He retrieved his notepad from his own seat before sitting down, and began to take notes. He'd covered almost half a page with his indecipherable scribble when Catherine cleared her throat ready to talk about her injuries. The doctor acknowledged her with a hum, but didn't stop his examination Strangely, the continued working noises of the pen scraping over the paper, the light, professional touches and the knowledge that Steve was in the other room served to calm her until she was sure she could convince Doctor Taylor that this was not what it looked like.

"As you may know, I had leave recently. In fact I've only returned to the Enterprise today. I spent my leave with my...", Catherine hesitated, unsure of what to call Steve. They didn't use labels, and they rarely spoke about their feelings. The emotional connection was there, they both knew it was there, and they acknowledged it, if only silently. "Uhm, well, my... boyfriend."

Doctor Taylor looked up, and she cringed.

"It just sounds so childish."

"So, you spent your 48-hour leave with you significant other, and I take it, you had an interesting night."

"Day, actually," she replied, knowing that she had to be honest with the Commander. "Uh, we met up shortly before w- before the flight."

Doctor Taylor nodded and signaled for her to go on.

"We...," Catherine sighed. She was not some blushing virgin, and she decided to bloody well act like it. "We had a bit of rough sex. What you see is the aftermath. It was consensual. I wasn't raped, I wasn't forced, and I'm fine. I gave as good as I got."

"Yes," Doctor Taylor murmured, then realized that he was venturing onto thin ice, he added, "I guess you would."

Catherine cleared her throat.

"These marks are quite extensive, though."

"So are his." Catherine wrung her fingers. "Do you believe me?"

"Yes," the Doctor said seriously. "As you can guess, the Captain has ordered this examination. I have to write a medical report."

"Will someone else see it?", Catherine inquired.

"If there was a reason to believe that you have been a victim of sexual assault, I'd have to relate this assertion to the Captain in oder to begin the judicial process... Since you weren't assaulted, that's all the Captain needs to know."

5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0

"I've only conducted a superficial exam, but I can see no reason why I should not take Lieutenant Rollins at her word, Captain," Doctor Taylor reported a few hours later once he was done examining the SEALs. Only two of them had to stay in the trauma room, they were in good enough hands with his nurses and it was quiet enough work-wise that he had felt confident to give his report directly to the Captain. They'd moved from the bridge to a conference room in order not to be overheard. "I see no need to take any further steps."

"Then neither do I," Captain Swanson replied with a relieved sigh. He didn't need a case of sexual assault to upset the relative tranquility of the Enterprise's work processes. Nonetheless, he turned to his new JAG officer who'd first suggested testing upon hearing the eye witness report from Rollins' room mate in Udeid, to see if the man held any reservations. The young Lieutenant Commander was tall and had a bout of black hair that was almost too long and unruly to be regulation. He usually wore a mischievous smile, and the Captain had at first protested gravely to having him assigned to the Enterprise. Gregory Vukovic had a reputation for his unconventional methods– that is to say borderline malpractice. He'd been informed that the man had a lot of potential and had done some growing up since his early days in Fall's Church, Virginia; he just needed a bit more experience out at sea. Captain Swanson had grudgingly caved to the assignment. He still wasn't sure the guy wouldn't be trouble, but orders were orders.

"If I may inquire, Doctor, what did you mean; you did a superficial examination?", the young man questioned with a gleam in his eye that the two other officers didn't like.

"It means that I forwent looking for...," he hesitated for a moment to find the most discrete term to convey what he meant, "internal scissures or other wounds. I have taken a look at the superficial, that is directly visible marks on the Lieutenant's body, and while they exist in a great number, especially across her thorax and collar, Lieutenant Rollins has reasonably explained the nature of their origin."

"Which is... if you don't mind, sir?"

"The activities that led to the acquirement of her injuries were fully consensual, Lieutenant Commander. I can't say more without betraying the doctor-patient confidentiality, and that's really all you need to know."

"It's not uncommon for a rape victim to deny the crime. The emotional trauma and the shame involved often lead to..."

Greg trailed off when he saw the expression that both men's faces had slipped into. Captain Swanson raised his coffee mug to cover the grin, and the good doctor threw him an amused, almost pitying glance. Also, something in their faces told him that he should have known better, though he could not quite think of what exactly that should have been. His glance passed from one man to the other, questioning, until the Captain took pity on him, and lowered his mug back onto the table between them. He heaved a dramatic sigh.

"You don't know a lot about Lieutenant Rollins, do you, son?" He didn't wait for Greg's response as he went on. "Well, it's only natural, I suppose. You have just arrived after all. I'm an old friend of her father, and I've known that girl since she could crawl. Trust me when I say, raping her would be no easy task. And if, by some unfortunate constellation, some guy had actually managed to successfully assault her, she'd march into the nearest Police Department or MP office she could find, and have his sorry ass arrested if she felt like being kind."

"Because she could also slip one word to her SEAL brothers, and we'd never even find the bastard's mangled remains," the Doctor finished. "But, quite frankly, in the most likely scenario she'd just castrate him herself before he could lay a finger on her."

"I know that Navy training includes self defense classes, but...", Vucovik chimed in unconvinced.

"Do you know why she chose a job in Naval Intelligence, son?", the Captain asked, and the lawyer limited himself to shaking his head. "Because she knew the SEALs wouldn't take her, because she's a woman. But she knows all their tricks and moves. Her father trained her in everything, plus traditional martial arts. She could give any SEAL a run for his money. When she was stationed in Coronado they had a betting pool."

Greg contemplated this for a moment. It certainly tied in interestingly with some of the rumors he'd come across in his impromptu research on Lieutenant Rollins potentially assailant. Maybe she hadn't been assaulted, but that didn't mean that there wasn't something unlawful going on with the Intelligence officer.

"Did she say who she engaged in these activities with, sir?", Vucovik asked Commander Taylor carefully.

"Her partner," Doctor Taylor answered promptly. He threw a look at Captain Swanson as he was becoming concerned with this lasting interest from the Lieutenant Commander. Since no crime had been committed, he should have let the matter go by now, but the man remained strangely invested in it.

"Did she tell you who it was?"

"No, and I didn't ask," the doctor replied, and then wanted to slap himself. He'd just opened a door, and Vucovik was bound to march inside.

"Good. Then you won't be betraying the doctor-patient confidentiality if you tell me who it is, sir," the lawyer answered jovially. The sudden paling of Commander Taylor's and Captain Swanson's faces told him what he'd already read in their faces; they knew exactly what had occurred, and were willing to ignore it. However, they weren't the only ones privy to the Navy rumor mill, and a little digging upon hearing of the case, had yielded interesting results. The only thing left to find out was if these two fine officers were covering up a rape case or a fraternization... "I've heard there was a SEAL admitted today with unusual injuries."

Obviously his nurses talked to much. How could this have spread and reached Vucovik in a mere few hours since the incident in the trauma room. "If you already have a suspicion, why are you asking?"

"For confirmation, sir."

Commander Taylor exchanged a glance with the Captain who gave a helpless shrug.

"Lieutenant Commander McGarrett had similar marks on his body, some derive from extensive scratching and others are clearly indentations of human teeth."

"Adding that to the rumors about them..."

"Commander Vukovic, I make it my point not to listen to the grape wine gossip. If I did, I'd have to follow up on every so-called report of indecent behavior amongst my crew, and if I did that, I'd never get anything else done on the Enterprise," the Captain informed him. "A policy that you should take into consideration."

"I will, sir," Greg replied, though no one was convinced, "but, in this case, I believe it merits further investigation. I would like to talk to Lieutenant Rollins myself if you don't mind."

"I can't stop you, can I," the Captain asked rhetorically. "I intend to be present during this conversation."

With that, and without allowing for the lawyer to point out that it might not be the wisest course of action, the Captain led the way through the ship to the Lieutenant's cabin. Doctor Taylor left them to it; he had to return to his duties, though he could only shake his head worriedly. This would no doubt blow up in all their faces. Greg motioned for two MPs to follow them. The action did not go by unnoticed by Captain Swanson but he only raised a questioning eyebrow for the time being. He had a feeling this was going to get a lot worse before it got better. He felt sorry for Lieutenant Rollins who he thought was getting in the middle of some bigger plan of the JAG officer, potentially being made the lynch pin for something. As they reached the cabin, the Captain gave a sharp knock, and announced their presence. The door flew open seconds later to reveal Lieutenant Patricia Sanders with her hair undone and her uniform jacket in a bit of a disarray as if she'd already discarded it and then put it back on in a haste.

"Yes, sir?", she addressed him simply, but inquisitively. Her eyes strayed momentarily to the rest of her visitors, then widened when she recognized the MPs' uniforms. "Sir?", she asked again in a small voice.

"We're here to speak to Lieutenant Rollins. Her shift should have ended. Is she not here?", Captain Swanson inquired calmly.

"Yes, sir, she got off with me – uh, off work, I mean...uhm," Sanders stuttered. She clicked her tongue briefly to bring herself to order, then looked him squarely in the eyes to answer. "She wanted to get some fresh air, though, and went out again. Is she in some kind of trouble?"

"That's what we're trying to determine," Lieutenant Commander Vucovik cut in with an overly charming smile that made Sanders' face slip even more into discomfort. " Was she different than you knew her? Was something off?"

"She was tired like all of us, sir, but-"

"Lieutenant, we know about the injuries."

Lieutenant Sanders was taken aback, and gulped a little. She had not expected this to make the rounds and find tis way to her superiors, much less their new JAG, so quickly. The blob that had been in gut since she recognized the Captain in front of her door turned to ice.

"Well, yes, Lieutenant Rollins came back with some interesting injuries but she assured me-"

"If you could just point us in the right direction, Lieutenant. Where would Lieutenant Rollins have gone?"

"Where we all go, sir, the fantail."

_Fantail_, the Captain thought. Personally, he preferred to call it lover's nest. Only place on the damn ship with some semblance of privacy. It was the logical place to go for some fresh air and quiet and... solitude. Catherine was bound to like that idea after the day she must have been having, and McGarrett probably knew that too. The Captain's sinking feeling grew.

5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0

_(Fantail)_

They met at the fantail, the quietest part of the ship. The only spot on the USS Enterprise where they wouldn't have to pretend for someone else's eyes. Steve was already waiting for her when she arrived. His body was turned toward the door, but his face looked out to the sea. He looked at her when he heard the sound of the door. It was late, and the moon was barely illuminating his face, but Catherine could see that his hair was wet and wondered what his drill sergeant had made him and his comrades do in the middle of the ocean, wondered what hat gotten them a trip to the trauma room. She was just glad they hadn't had to keep him there. There was a bit of a breeze, and she hoped that he wouldn't catch a cold. She brushed that thought away as she stepped closer to him, coming to a halt only a few inches away, not close enough to touch but close enough to feel his heat radiate from his form. When she looked up at his face, she found stormy eyes.

"Something happen?", she questioned.

"Nah, it's just... good to be home again." He was a sailor, heart and soul. Of course he would feel at home on an aircraft carrier. Catherine had to suppress a chuckle.

"Feel guilty about that?", she wondered when his friends and his home on Oahu came to mind.

"Not really, but it's weird, you know," he replied shaking his head. "I've been in the reserves for over a year now, and spent most of my time there with them – on land. I still feel right at home here with the other foul-mouthed sailors."

His lips quirked when he thought of all the clichés about sailors, and which of them were true. He particularly remembered a couple of jibes he'd received rather recently about the manhandled state of his body. Some had jokingly called him weak, said he must be under the thumb of some harpy. Others had admired his 'battle wounds', been impressed and a little envious when they'd realized how wild his night must have been. Steve had both smirked and winced a little at each comment he received, but he had been a good sport and had let them talk, let them fantasize, and wonder in the dark.

"What's that smile for?", Catherine asked as she sat down on a ledge in the welding. It wasn't overly comfortable, but the wind was picking up and pulling at her hair. Sitting down would shield her a little. Steve copied the action so that they were eye-level again.

"I got a few... interesting reactions when I got out of my wet clothes. There were catcalls," he informed her, and relished in her laugh. He didn't tell her about the tension that followed so as not to ruin the mood. He could tell her some other time. "Apparently, I'm quite lucky I survived my fight with a lioness... Did you get any grief about..."

All his mirth left him as Catherine shrugged.

"The Lieutenant I shared a room with in Udeid had a bit of a shock, but she didn't know you. Trish just gave a low whistle when I changed today, and asked if I was in pain. She knows I'd never let you hurt me."

"Are you? In pain, I mean?" Lieutenant Patricia Sanders' had known them from the start and the reaction of an officer in Udeid they'd likely never see again was meaningless to him – unlike the answer to Trish's question. Steve could kick himself for not having asked himself. How had it not occurred to him that as horrible as they looked, the injuries must hurt. They sat down on a small slab of metal protruding from the rails. He raised his hand to gently brush away the collar of her uniform. He felt secure enough to do this here in the fantail, be this close to her and touch if only to check on her. The only bite mark he could expose given the cut of her BDUs was the one on the side of her neck from where he'd sank his teeth into a part of her blue star tattoo. It had turned dark purple and looked raw to him. He almost didn't dare to touch it, but then an idea settled in his head. He must have lost his common sense somewhere in the Gulf because this had been a line never crossed before. Still, Steve decided that the fantail offered them enough privacy for a brief moment wholly theirs. Leaning closer to her, he brushed his lips over the mark.

He couldn't help but close his eyes at the sensation. Her skin was hot under his lips, and he could feel her pulse thrum through it and into him. He felt her shiver, heard her hiss, then moan. He knew he should stop; even this little cove of privacy was not the place and it was not the time for their emotions to govern their rational minds, but he could neither prevent his heartbeat from picking up speed, nor resist the thought that came unbidden to his mind. Once it was there, he could do nothing to banish it. His and Catherine's relationship had always been intense and close, because they'd been friends first, but there had also always been some undefinable quality he could only call 'more'. He had quickly concluded what it was, and it had made him run for the hills, though he'd regretted it as soon as the door to her apartment and her heart had been closed in his face. By some grace of heaven, she'd accepted his apology even though months had passed between one event and the other. What was between them remained unsaid, though they both clearly, if silently, acknowledged it; they were committed and exclusive. The murder of his father had been a turning point for him; his life had been swept over within a few days, and even after the case was solved he remained hurt. Then she'd come to shore. He hadn't been sure if he could take her presence in his father's home. Catherine had never met his father, but Steve had still been so raw, he hadn't been certain if he could hold onto his sanity confronted with any piece of his past life. That's what everything before his father's murder felt like; a past life that was ages old and faded, but also painful. He'd not been over Freddie's death yet, and he'd seen Catherine shortly before that. Freddie had even alluded to it, so he was afraid seeing her face would make him hurt more. Instead it took so much hurt away. Catherine got him like no one else had ever done or ever would, and they'd done a whole lot of talking before they hadn't made it to dinner. Moments before he'd woken up fully, he had known that he wanted to make another change in their dynamic, and if the governor hadn't called him he was sure those three fateful little words would have tripped over his tongue that very morning.

Ever since then he'd been waiting for the right moment to tell her that there was no one else in his life – that she was his life. She would get him, would get why he told her now. Now, hidden in the darkness, he felt that this was the perfect moment and so them. He leaned back to tell her all, and was struck silent by the way she looked at him. Her left hand had woven into his hair, and was pulling at him to guide his lips back to her skin. Her eyes were half-closed and black as the night that surrounded them, and they were focused on him as if he was all there was in the world. Before Steve could utter a word or form a conscious thought, he was on his knees between her legs, his lips slanted against her mouth. Her hands cradled his face, and he nudged her mouth open to stroke his tongue against hers. His hands, that had parted her legs to make room for him, stroked up and down her thighs, and pulled her a little closer till she was flush against his body. She kissed him back passionately all the while her hands moved to his shoulders to push him away and create a little much-needed distance.

"This is not a good idea."

"I know."

"I don't want to stop." She removed her hands from him to stroke across her own face, and gain some semblance of sanity again.

"I know," he said grinning from ear to ear. He let go of her legs, and shifted back to sit on his shins, but did not draw back completely. Being on his knees before her in the fantail of an aircraft carrier while on his reserve drill, was not exactly the position he had envisioned, but Steve figured now was as good a time as any to tell her the words that were burning on his tongue. He tried to say her name, but only a croak came out. It certainly got her attention, though amusement wasn't the reaction he was looking to find in her eyes at this crucial moment. He took comfort in knowing it would soon be replaced by something else. He cleared his throat. When her name finally left his lips, there was so much tension, emotion and promise in his voice that the whisper made her shiver all by itself.

"Cath..."

He'd made it this far, only to be interrupted by the MP storming through the door and arresting him.

**End of chapter 2!**

**A/N:** Uh, that does not look good, does it? How will Steve get out of this one?

What did you think about how they handled Catherine's continued absence?

I read a comment that said it strengthened her as a character because she got to tell 'the alpha male' that she was not coming back and that she had found a place for herself. While I agree that it can be read that way, I'm not convinced that was the writers' intention. Honestly, it seemed more about giving Steve his 'I'm single again' moment so that he could be free for someone else - likely Eliie. I mean, none of the characters ever mentioned Catherine (I'm not counting the hallucination) or visibly missed her. After she left, it's like she never existed, so the scene seems like a cheap way out rather than an attempt at affirming Cath's agency and independence.

Sorry, I needed to get that out.


End file.
